


stained

by manrei



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Grief, and raleigh's ass, giant fucking robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manrei/pseuds/manrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which mako contemplates the significance of the color blue</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i recently rewatched pacific rim and this kinda just fell out

Stacker Pentecost was a man of destruction. Foundation. A killer of beasts that swam up from the depths of the oceans and crushed cities beneath their feet. A former commanding implement of a lethal mechanism several dozens of stories tall, packed to the teeth with missiles and several layers of metal compounds embedded in its fists designed to hack, slash, and slice at the thick, sinuous tissue of Kaiju meat. And it was there, in that kitchen made out of steel and black granite, that he had flour on his shirt.

Mako Mori, a little meek thing then, with soft black hair cut to her jaw and an expectant pout on her lips, swung her legs back and forth over the floor from her seat in the dining room. It had been two years since Onibaba's attack in Tokyo, and since then, she had been living in Stacker's flat in London. It was a strange place, the city: the workings of the two urban locations were similar, but at the same time, different. There were trains that ran underground, people that walked the streets with their air of indifference, and their deeply repressed fear that something big was going to tear through their buildings, their walls, and decimate their population sooner than they thought. It was a shame, Mako wanted to admit, that you couldn't get mochi here. Still, she couldn't say it was easy getting acclimated to her surroundings. Reporters would come at her while on the street to ask what it was like to be a product of Stacker's heroism. What it was like to be symbol of the hope for humanity to prevail in the war against the Kaiju and an example of the losses as a result all at the same time. To Mako, it was almost a blessing she couldn't understand English all that well.

This wasn't to say that being under Stacker's care was a bad thing. He was stoic, yes. Disciplined. But not cold. He was loving in his own way, buying her small brown bags with pastel macarons and slices of strawberry cake home once a week when he'd pass by the French patisserie. There were times in which nightmares would plague her and he'd come into her room, sit her up on the bed and gently palm her hair while she cried into his chest, just like when he had when they met. "It's alright, Mako," he'd say. "It's only a memory." Still, even with the soothing, it would all come trickling back like water dripping through cupped palms. Her fear, the concrete cutting into her bare foot as she ran, the brief image of the building toppling and swallowing her mother and father and blood, too much blood, plagued her. It was because of these nights that she developed a hatred - no, a fear - of the color blue.

 It was what Onibaba's eyes had glowed with, and the color that had run through its veins. Blue. The color of the sky before it came. Blue. The color of her coat that day and her dress. Blue. It was a hue that incited fear and anxiety while prodding the heavy stones of loss. Whenever she'd see it, a thirst for vengeance too big for a child so small would burble within her and it was only due to Stacker's reassurances and his constant taxing drills - the bushido, the martial arts classes to help with her reflexes, and the mind games - that these feelings would be kept at bay.

This was why, when Stacker came into the room with a turquoise cake in his hands, that her muscles grew tense with agitation. "I know that this color is unpleasant for you to see," he said slowly as he set it down onto the table. "But when you're in the Drift, you will face many unpleasant things." In response to her pursed lips, he leaned closer, dropping his voice to the soothing tone he'd use when he'd console her. "Mako, you want to fight, right?"

She nodded. She had pestered him for months to train under him, so he knew better than anyone.

"In order to beat the monster in front of you, you have to beat the one inside of you."

He looked into her eyes. "You have to do this, Mako. I understand that you are afraid, but I can't fight anymore. I need to know that once you are inside that machine and the thing you are afraid of comes knocking at your door, that you will push every fear aside, and you will protect me."

She knew that this was a test, but when she realized that Stacker meant that she, a girl of barely five feet and stringy arms would protect someone as burly and commanding as he was, would one day serve as his protector, a certain resolve bloomed inside her, burned in her. She cut a slice for herself and set it on her plate. It was in that moment as she took a bite out of the velvet cake and its sweet, tangy frosting, that she decided that blue wasn't so bad. In fact, it was the color of his kettle, in which he'd make thick hot chocolate on the cold days, and the color of his blanket which he would wrap around her while curled up on his sofa while they would watched movies. It was the color of the ocean, which she imagined would one day surround her in a robot as tall as a building punching the shit out of a Kaiju, its cerulean blood dripping and swirling into the ocean, dying with each laceration given to it by none other than her.

Stacker watched her with a marked tentativeness. "Is it alright?" He asked. "I think I lost an eggshell in there."

At that mention, there was a pronounced _crunch_ in between her back teeth, to which she winced to.

"Oh, you found it!" He laughed.

"It's good," she said through a mouthful of cake. He then took a slice for himself and started eating.

Seeing him like that, clad in a black apron still dusty with flour and a smear of blue frosting on his chest, it would seem difficult to to imagine that this was the same person from two years ago. But not to Mako. For her, it was easy to remember the figure of the man on the giant Jaegar, with the sunlight shining off his gunmetal gray armor and the flecks of ash of a half-destroyed city falling around him. It was in that moment, when he brought a piece of cake that said "Happy Birthday" in clumsy script to his mouth, that Mako decided that blue would be her favorite color once again.


	2. like a bruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter: raleigh

_"You can always find me in the Drift."_

Mako opened her eyes. She was warm and sticky, despite the thermostat being on its lowest. Still dazed from the vividness of the dream-memory, she stared at the ceiling, arms splayed, chest rising and receding in a slow routine. Inflating, then deflating, as the numbness of the shock in her bones tried its best to settle. It was difficult to imagine, that a man who had spent years of his life killing beasts and kissing her wounds was scattered in pieces across the floor of the Pacific Ocean. It didn't help that they had built a memorial statue of him and Chuck to be placed near where the Breach had been, either. A single tear, hot and wet, rolled down her cheek. Then, a knock at her door. She sat up, wiping the moisture off her face with the palm of her hand. Raleigh slid the door open and poked his head in.

"Bad dream?" He asked.

She nodded. Her tank top stuck to her skin with sweat. "How did you know?"

He brought two of his fingers to his temple, smiling. "I had a feeling." Of course, he knew her better than anyone. Having Drifted together meant that they had established a bond far beyond the realm of intimate. "Mind if I come in?"

She nodded again, making space for him. Despite her mood, the sight of his disheveled hair and sweatpants that hung just a little too low were doing things to her. He sat down with a sigh, kneading small circles into her back with his knuckles. There was an unspoken rule between the both of them: whenever there was something they could share, Raleigh always took the right and Mako the left. One could say that it was an old salute to their time as pilots, but to them, it just felt right.

As he made himself comfortable, she caught a whiff of his cologne. A pang of jealousy, small and sour, rose within her. It wouldn't have been a surprise to her finding out that Raleigh was going out to meet new lady friends. She couldn't blame him. The war was over, he was a hero, with a nice ass and a whole lot of money. There were tons of beautiful women who would kill to have a conversation with him. Plus, she had no right to be jealous at all. They were friends, roommates.

He took his hand off her back and put his arm around her, burying his nose into her mussed-up hair. She could feel his breath on her scalp, and the slight tightening of his muscles as he brought himself closer to her. "It's only a memory, Mako," he murmured, nose still in hair.

No one, if there was anyone anymore, knew loss better than Raleigh. Fighting off the coast of Anchorage, his brother had been ripped from Gipsy by Knifehead. That was the most appropriate word. Ripped. Two minds, fused into a single consciousness, forced to separate. There had been the tearing of unseen emotional synapses - thoughts that had been melded together, split, leaving only the frayed edges of the remaining cognizance and the imprint of fear. Desperation. Like a scream rising, then fading, then stopping all at once. And there was the loss, the emptiness. Mako knew, had felt it all, the rawness of his pain. She knew what it was like to help carry his weight to keep them both afloat within the Drift, just like what he had done with her. Sitting like that together, two open wounds trying to heal each other, she could only close her eyes.

"I miss him," she said.

He pulled away. "I know," he said, pulling a hard candy out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. She knew that he wasn't the best at words ( he was more of the _'punch now, run and think about what you've done'_ kind of guy ) and that this was somewhat of a nervous tic of his. Normally when he was tense, he would crunch on it, grinding the rough broken-up crystals in his back teeth before swallowing them, sweet grittiness and all. But around her, he would tongue it. Knock it against his teeth, his eyes rolling to stare up at the ceiling in search for the best thing to say, or he'd press it to the roof of his mouth, the sweet lozenge slowly dissolving and making that weird numb feeling when he'd take it out, and quietly contemplate.

"You...you want to hang out with me later?" He asked. "I know that you haven't been in the best of moods lately and word of the whole memorial thing is getting you down, so hopefully, maybe a few hours with your most favorite person in the world would do you good? Unless, you don't want to," he smiled.

"I can't understand you with that thing in your mouth," she said. "Did you say _"favorite person"?"_

"Sorry," he said, sticking the bonbon in between his teeth for her to see. _"Forsh of habid."_

"That's _gross!"_ She said, laughing, and pushed him away.

He sucked it back in with a _shlshhh_ and laughed, too. "C'mon, Miss Mori, don't be like that just because I'm not as cute as you."

She laughed again, and for a moment, things seemed better. "Yeah," she replied.

He launched himself at her, and dug his fingers into her side, making her squeal and kick a pillow off the bed. "We're a team! You're supposed to agree with me, Mako!" She huffed.

"Tell me I'm cute!" He insisted, getting up to get a better vantage point in regards to tickling an acceptable reply out of her, and in response, she twisted her body and shot out her hands to keep them against his chest. He fell on top of her, hovering above her with a palm on either side like he was in mid-push up. There was an amused grin on his face. For a second, she froze, taking in how compromising of a position they were in. Perhaps, it was the ghost of the harmonious convergence of consciousnesses that caused her to feel unafraid but, nevertheless, drawn to him, or maybe it was the fact that she had wondered, all bashful, what it would be like to have his body against hers that would explain this attraction. A desire, that was, in that moment, inches from achievement, and one that she was sure that he was no stranger to when they had Drifted. Her eyes followed the rosy curve of his lips as he softly huffed from the exertion of laughter.

"C'mon, Mako. One last time," he said, eyes glittering. He reminded her so much of an excited golden retriever whenever he looked at her like that. "Tell me I'm cute."

"Alright," she relented. "You're cute."

"Really?" He grinned, face melting into one of pure adoration, an expression of his that was not at all uncommon, bent down to touch his forehead to hers. "Does that mean you'll go out with me?" She put her hands on either side of his face, closed her eyes, and smiled.

"Yes."

  
***

It was the morning, and Mako was staring at the wall. In her hands was a thick envelope from Tendo Choi labeled "For Mako". Its top had been slit, revealing around a dozen slips of colorful paper. She took a Polaroid from the envelope and dabbed a bit of glue onto its back. It was one of her eating bubble waffles with the Wei triplets, who had treated her after she had proved to them that she was the worst basketball player in the whole Shatterdome. Even the Kaidonovksy's had been better, much to their dismay. The photo featured all three of them grinning behind her, with Hu, the most mischievous and lighthearted of the three, pressing a thumb covered in chocolate sauce to Mako's cheek in mid-smear. It had been a fun day and Tendo had captured a lot more, saying that moments like that weren't going to go down in the history books, so they had to be kept somewhere. She stuck that photo under the picture of her and the Kaidonovsky's, who were smiling in anticipation on her verdict of how great Ukrainian hard house was. Aleksis' headphones were so big, that she had to use both of her hands to secure it to her ears. ( For the record, the bass was a bit too much, but it was alright. )

And there, in the center, was a picture of Stacker kissing her forehead. That had been taken on the day she expressed her frustration in getting Gipsy's new parts late and accidentally botching Striker's circuitry after a miscommunication in the amount of coolant it needed and rather than patting her head, he had brought her close and pressed his lips to her skin. The effect had been almost immediate, summoning a wave of calm that spread across her whole body.

 _"You're doing well, Mako,"_ he had said. _"I'm proud that you've taken on so much."_

It was a wonder how Tendo had gotten the shot at all, but for that, she was grateful.

  
There was a knock at her door. "Mako?" Raleigh poked his head in and looked around. "Oh, you're up," he said.

"Yeah," she replied.

"I, uh, made breakfast. As usual. You wanna eat with me?"

"In a minute," she said.

"Are you okay?" He asked, voice laced with concern. Can I come in?" She nodded, and he entered the room. This time, he was wearing a white tank top.

"Oh," he said, looking at the wall of photos. "Hey, I remember this." He pointed at the picture of them still in their suits, soaking wet after sealing the Breach, and enjoying a cup of hot tea under a couple of emergency blankets.

"Yeah," she said. "Tendo sent me a packet of photos."

"That's great," he said. "This is good." He squeezed her shoulder. "So, do you want to eat breakfast? I can help you put up a few photos afterward. I don't want you to starve to death before we go out."

She set the envelope down on her nightstand. "Where are we going, anyway?"

He smiled. "It wouldn't be fun if I told you, would it? C'mon, breakfast first."

She frowned, not being the type to like surprises. She preferred things to go as planned, with no anomalies affecting the final outcome. Still, this wasn't organizing the inner workings of the Shatterdome and despite her protests, she couldn't help but feel just a little bit excited about it all. She followed him to the dining room and sat across from him.

  
Their flat wasn't the nicest. Raleigh's workout equipment was neatly situated in the living room next to the TV they never used. ( Hearing the news reminded them of Kaiju attacks headlining and neither of them wanted to be around all of that ) There was the soft, but far too lumpy couch, the dining table that squeaked, and a few cat clocks that Mako had found cute that Raleigh bought. Although they could afford a bigger, better living space, they were both far too modest to even consider it. Plus, they liked their place, scuffed floors and all. 

  
Raleigh slid into his seat, snapping a napkin at the air for it to settle on his lap. Mako put some potatoes onto her plate along with a couple of strips of bacon and an egg. She brought the spoon to her mouth and looked at Raleigh, who, coincidentally, had his spoon in the same position as her with some potatoes. And he was looking at her. He put it into his mouth, chewed, and grinned.

"Huh," he said. "That was weird. Yancy and I used to do that kind of stuff all the time since we first Drifted."

  
After Mako swallowed, she said, "It is not uncommon for two synced minds to show this sort of behavior."

  
He still had that look on his face, the one that was so warm, it could melt chocolate. "I guess that means we're good for each other."

She smiled, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I guess so."

"Well, is it good, then?"

"Pardon?"

"The food," he gestured with his spoon. "Is it good?"

She nodded. "Yes. It's very good. Thank you." In truth, it was delicious. Because of the incident with Yancy, Raleigh had become an insomniac. It had been disconcerting at first, living with someone who didn't sleep. There were times in which she'd open the door late at night to get a glass of water and he'd been on the couch laughing at old cartoons or being keenly interested in even older anime like  _Gundam_. In order to pass the time, she found that he'd lift weights, read ( only a little, though, once in a while), and cook. He was a fantastic cook in any case. Mako never met anyone who could make a great lasagna like he could. ( _"The secret is three whole bags of cheese,"_ he had said. )

  
"Hey, Mako?" He said, the sound of his spoon sliding across the plate making a disconcerting squeak.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you're alright?" His eyebrows furrowed in that worried puppy kind of way.

She took a bite of bacon. "Yes, why do you ask?"

"The nightmares...I mean, I get that the Drift makes memories vivid than they normally would be and that sometimes...you dream them, but...they haven't been getting any better for you."

She froze, processing what he had just said. It wasn't as if she liked not being able to maintain control of her feelings, let alone her memories. It made her feel helpless, unstable, broken. "I'm fine," she said. "How...how long did it take you?"

"With Yancy?" He said, and she realized that she had struck a nerve. He glanced down at his plate, probably trying to put a strong front up for the sake of her. "Well, when you put it that way, just...take your time."

  
***

_"You've got such gorgeous hair," Tamsin said. "It's so slippery - so smooth. I don't think I can braid it."_

_"Just try," Mako said. "Please."_

_"How could I say no to that?" She said. "To you? You're too cute. Has anyone ever done this to you?"_

_"No," Mako replied. "This is my first time."_

_"There," Mako's reflection slid in front of her as Tamsin held the mirror in front of your face. "You can really see the blue, here. Do you like it?"_

_Mako grinned, and launched herself at her friend, burying her face into her cool skin, taking in the smell of antiseptic and baby oil. "I love it."_

_"I love you," Tamsin said, placing her palm on top of Mako's head. "I'd have you braid mine, but two strands is barely enough hair for a fishtail."_

_Mako laughed. "You're still pretty," she said._

_It was just then that Stacker walked into the room, closing the heavy hospital door with a click. "What's going on here? I heard a lot of noise."_

_Once she realized that Stacker was there, Mako ran to him to him, hair frazzled from rubbing it against Tamsin._

_"What do you think?" She asked, looking up at him._

_"I think," Stacker said, pushing away the stray hair from her cheeks. "It looks fitting."_

 

Mako dried her hair, which had been streaming with dark blue water just seconds ago, with a towel. She looked into the mirror, taking note of the inches the months had added to the length of her locks. It stuck to her face like black tentacles, making her look more gaunt that she actually was. The fact that she had dyed her tips blue was out of habit: since she had been sixteen, she had dreamed that her hair would one day be covered in Kaiju blood. Blue and horrible, an omen of death and destruction to the alien species. But now, in this case, it was for Stacker. For the time he'd take her hair gently between his fingers and say, "Remember this. Remember, that you are a fighter."

Looking at her reflection, she didn't look like it.

She ran her fingers self-consciously through her hair, rubbing it slowly between her thumb and pointer. Since when had she gotten so gaunt? Her cheeks, no longer plump and rosy, but angular and shadowed. The underside of her eyes, purpled with lack of sleep, didn't add to her mirth, either. When she pulled her fingers from her hair, they came away stained with blue. _Will it ever end?_ She thought. _The hurting?_

Looking in the mirror, looking at her color scheme of blacks and blues, like a fresh bruise that looked like it would never yellow, she felt the tightening in her chest. Though the war was over, it seemed as if all she ever did was lose. Lose--the authoritative figure of Stacker Pentecost, who, in his mitten-clad hands held a tray of hot cookies. Lose the sound of her mother singing an old lullaby while her father sliced the air with a blade that he had made, centimeters thin, that could cut through wood and flesh all the same.

"Mako?" She heard a knock and then Raleigh call her name outside once more. It seemed that he had been pulling her out of her trances more often than usual.

"Yes?" She asked, quickly wrapping a towel around her small, damp frame.

"You done?

"I'll be going out in a minute," she murmured.

"Alright," he said. "But hurry because I've gotta go."

She opened the door and a blast of cold hair hit her, prickling her skin and making her wince. He looked at her with a pained expression. "Just make sure to be ready in fifteen, okay?"

"Okay," she said.

"We'll have a lot of fun!" He said before shutting the door.

 

***

Once she was in her room, her hair as dry as ten minutes could afford, she stuck the photo of her in Tamsin's lap, in which she had been caught mid-laugh as the woman she had considered as an older sister blew a raspberry into her neck.

 

She slipped into the only dress she owned: a simple chestnut colored one trimmed with a soft blue and pinned her bangs with an indigo butterfly barrette. For a second, she felt childish, wearing such feminine clothing that she wasn't at all used to, but since Raleigh had told her to dress nicely, she knew that her grease-stained tanks and array of one-size too large pants just wouldn't do.   
  
"Oh, wow," Raleigh said when he came into the room, dressed in a gray v-neck, jeans, and a beanie. He looked like a lazed rock star, but buffer. "You look a lot better than I do. You sure you won't be cold?"  
  
"Thermal stockings," she said, showing him her legs covered in gray insulated stockings.   
  
"I wish I had a pair of those," he smiled. "I'll bring my jacket just in case."

"Thanks."  
  
  
The commute had been, for the most part, peaceful. Neither of them had talked much, especially when Mako got drowsy to the steady hum of the bus.   
  
"Nothing like being in a Jaegar," Raleigh said.   
  
"It's nice," she mumbled. "There's nothing that will kill us outside."   
  
"Can you repeat that? I didn't really catch that last part."   
  
She was so used to speaking to him in Japanese, that it was a surprise to her that he was still a new speaker of the language. "It's good being alive," she said.   
  
"Oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, those body suits really pinched my skin in some places. I'm glad that I don't have to be in one for, well, forever."   
  
"I know that they pinched you. I was in your head, remember?"   
  
"Yeah," he said. "Sometimes I miss it. Gets lonely up there."   
  
  
Taking advantage of his size, she leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing in his piney cologne and the sweet, heady smell of candy wafting from his mouth. He was warm, comforting, homey. She didn't want to leave his side. It wasn't until she was being gently shaken awake by him that she realized that she had fallen asleep. He got up, offering her his arm. "I used to sleep on the bus all the time," he said.   
  
  
She wrapped her hands around his muscled arm, feeling the thick cords of sinew flex under his skin as they departed from the bus. The Alaskan air was cold, biting, but not unbearable. It smelled like the sea and freshly baked bread - the soft, yeasty type that would stretch between your fingers like cheese and melt against your tongue. In the distance, Mako could heard the sounds of celebration: the excited murmur of a packed crowd, firecracker balls being popped by little kids who threw them to the ground or smashed them with the bottom of their shoe, music. There was the smell of meat, oily with grease, being cooked, and cups of hot chocolate being passed from vendor to customer.   
  
"A carnival? This far into the winter?" Mako asked, mesmerized by a boy waving a sparkler in the air. She had been to carnivals before, when she was younger. In Japan, people would wear yukatas, eat chocolate-covered fruit and slurp soba. In London, there was the London Eye, fish and chips, tangy vinegar, and flaky sweets. She had never, come to think of it, attended one in America before.   
  
"It's to commemorate Day Zero," Raleigh said. "I know it's probably not the best place for you to be considering all the mini Kaiju balloon animals, but I figured that a carnival's a carnival." He looked down at her. "And I just hope you'd have fun." 

She gave him a brisk nod. "I'll be fine," she said, tightening her grip on his arm. "Let's go."   
  
"Wait!" He said, shaking her off. "We have to do one thing first." He began to rummage around in his small backpack and pulled out a small, boxy object.   
  
"Wha - " She started.   
  
"Say cheese!" He said, putting the camera to his eye and squeezing the shutter button. There was a brief blinding flash and a whirring of the parts inside. A few seconds later, a photo was pushed out the horizontal slit.  Raleigh took it immediately and gave it to Mako, cupping her hands over the film.   
  
"Keep it out of the light," he said.    
  
In less than twenty seconds, the image of Mako was slowly coming to view, like a drop of ink hitting water. It was of her, lips in a small, shiny glossed "O" and her slight eyebrows raised just a bit as she was in the middle of asking, "What?" 

"What's this for?" She asked, pointing at the camera.   
  
"Um," He scratched the back of his neck. "When I saw your whole collage on the wall, there was only one picture of us. So, I thought, since we're friends, that the memories we had in the Drift shouldn't be the only ones we should share together. Once you were in the shower this morning, I ran down to the electronics store down the street to get this thing." He shook the camera in his hands. "The photos are all yours to put up. I just wanted to, uh, hang out with you."   
  
She blushed, knowing that Raleigh hardly spent money unless it was for necessities like candy for himself and groceries. It was...nice. Having him for a friend. Just as he was about to put the camera's safety loop around his neck, she stopped him.   
  
  
"Wait," she said.   
  
"What's up?"   
  
"Since you took a picture of me, I have to take one of you."   
  
A corner of his lip crooked up in a flirtatious smirk, revealing just a slice of his teeth. "Really?"   
  
"Really. "  
  
_"Okaaay_ , but, " He looked around and then back at her. "I have to look cool." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh!! sorry it took this long to put up! i had to deal with some stuff for school. i really hope i portrayed mako's inner feelings and her relationship with raleigh well! i just love these two a lot. 
> 
> and thanks for taking the time to read my work, the kudos, and the comments! it's all very sweet and much appreciated. :)

**Author's Note:**

> there are two things that stacker pentecost will put up with for hours for the greater good: fighting kaiju and making mako happy. hope you liked this one! this is my first fic on ao3, so any feedback would be great. :)


End file.
